The Triple Dog Dare
by Johnnydspiratequeen
Summary: John tells Sherlock that his tongue will stick to a lamppost in the wintertime. Sherlock is determined to prove him wrong...in front of Scotland Yard. Fluffy, cracky, established Sherlock/John.


**The Triple Dog Dare **

_(A/N: If you have seen A Christmas Story, that phrase should be very familiar to you. I realize this is probably unlikely to happen but if Sherlock didn't know the Earth went round the sun, anything is possible and after all, it is the season of miracles.) _

A soft powdering of snow had begun to fall, making a sharp contrast to the yellow crime scene tape that surrounded Scotland Yard's finest and none other than Sherlock Holmes and John Watson.

"No footprints, a conveniently located manhole cover; quite obviously the killer made use of the sewers. Honestly, even you lot should have figure that much out," the usual abuse flowed from Sherlock's mouth at breakneck speed and John stood, politely huffing out air and watching it turn to fog in front of him.

The team, especially Anderson, looked positively disgusted at the thought of having to root about in the sewers and Sherlock rolled his eyes, "Dear God, I can't believe you are the best we've got. John, care to accompany me into the sewers?"

"I think I'd rather stick my tongue to that lamppost," he answered, gesturing to said post at their right.

Sherlock gave him a quizzical look, as if John had just blabbed utter nonsense. "What?" the doctor asked, confused, "Haven't you ever seen A Christmas Story?"

"No, but I fail to see what that has to do with your bizarre notion of sticking your tongue on a lamppost."

"Well surely you know what happens when you touch your tongue to a post in cold weather?" Sherlock narrowed his eyes and John continued, "Well it sticks, doesn't it!"

"Does it?"

"That's what happened in the movie."

"John, you really shouldn't take all of your knowledge from television. Most of the time it is quite unreliable," Sherlock scoffed and was about to turn back to the matter at hand when John interrupted with, "I dare you."

Sherlock gave him a "Really? Are we in grade school?" look, eyebrow quirked as was his custom.

"You heard me right, Sherlock. I dare you to stick your tongue to that pole if you don't believe me. In fact," he said, laughing, "I triple dog dare you!"

The police squad looked on in amusement as Sherlock squared his shoulders and looked John dead in the eye. "I accept your childish dare, but _only_ to prove you wrong."

"We'll just see about that," John said, moving out of the way so his partner could get by.

Sherlock stepped up to the pole and stood, looking as if he planned on having a staring contest with it. He didn't know why but he actually felt a bit apprehensive when it came to sticking his tongue to a pole. After all, what if John was right? He shook his head to clear it of that thought and braced himself, clearing his throat.

A crowd had begun to gather, the ordeal having attracted the firemen, the paramedics, and even a few passersby from across the street. But none was more excited than John who wore a broad smile on his face as he waited for the inevitable.

"Go on then, Sherlock!" he goaded, "Not afraid are you?"

"I don't even know why I'm doing this," Sherlock grumbled, "It's absolutely nuts."

The rest of the crowd joined in with whoops and jeers until Sherlock could take no more. He was right and he would prove it! And so, screwing up his face in determination, he pressed his tongue to the icy pole and then tried to pull back. His tongue didn't budge and his eyes snapped open in shock and horror.

All was silence around him until John could no long contain his mirth. He literally burst out laughing, having to double over so as not to fall down completely. Everyone else joined in soon after and just out of the corner of his eye, Sherlock saw that Lestrade had nearly toppled over as well. Infuriated, Sherlock jerked backwards, only to be greeted with searing pain and tears in his eyes. That would most certainly not do. He tried to use his fingers to remove his tongue but it still would not budge.

John was now red in the face, one hand on the pole to steady himself and the other holding his aching sides. Sherlock, glued to a pole by his tongue in the middle of the snow and surrounded by everyone he looked down on, was possibly the funniest thing he had ever seen but he knew that it had to end. He gestured to a medic with a cup of hot water in his hand who swiftly crossed the tape and made his way over to Sherlock.

Disgruntled and mortified, Sherlock allowed him to pour the hot water over his freezing tongue and found himself instantly freed. He stumbled back, quickly catching himself and brushing imaginary dust off of his coat. The medic pursued him, muttering something about frostbite but Sherlock chased him off with a look that would put the devil to shame and the young man went crawling back to the ambulance.

With one last look at the squad, all of whom were still catching their breath, he whirled around in a flurry of coat tails and snow and stalked off towards home. John followed, attempting to restrain his giggles but Sherlock seemed bound and determined to leave him behind.

When they finally arrived back at Baker Street, Sherlock threw down his coat and scarf, flopping down on the couch in a petulant fashion. John couldn't help but smile.

"Well go ahead, lay into me," Sherlock said, "Go ahead and gloat."

"I'm not going to gloat," John sighed, crossing over to the couch and sitting down beside him.

"Well…I've still got a frostbitten tongue because of you," he retorted, folding his arms.

"Lucky for you that I'm a doctor and I know how to cure that frostbite right up," John quipped, putting a hand on Sherlock's knee for leverage and kissing him softly on the lips.

The detective's mouth quirked into a sly grin as he grabbed John by the shoulders and pushed him back down onto the couch. "Why Doctor," he purred, "I think you missed a spot."

"Well I'll just have to remedy that straight away."

"I triple dog dare you."

_(A/N: So there it was! Silly? Yes. Fluffy? Yes. Boring? I certainly hope not! Reviews are like presents!) _


End file.
